


You're All I Need Between My Sheets

by oneforyourfire



Category: C-Pop, Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:03:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: Less in control is the entire point. Less in control, it’s always so difficult to accept.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Torontok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torontok/gifts).



> warnings for: rimming, "big boy" kink, kjd trying not to be in ~control
> 
> [your hands should be all over me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5V1wmcdyrM)

Jongdae’s naked on their bed, hard, and already a little breathless, a little dazed, drunker on their kisses, their gazes than he’d like to admit.

Less in control is the entire point. Less in control, it’s always so difficult to accept.

But Jongdae likes the heat of their twin gazes on him, likes the towering solidity of them as they loom at the end of their standard king, likes the jolt of helpless deisre in his veins as he cranes his neck upwards to watch them. And oh, he likes—loves loves _loves_ —feeling the way they use their overwhelming strength, their overwhelming size to their advantage and on him.

They’re his boys, the both of them, enthuasiastically and vocally so. Big and beautiful and so easily bent, so eagerly broken apart.

But that isn’t the point, not tonight. 

And Jongdae lets his shoulders roll back, spine arch, head loll to the side, positioning himself more deliberately pliant and wanton and soft and small. It’s a rare, rare thing, letting that brief, base, base, base flare of exhiliration jolt through his limbs as he strains his neck to stare up at them both. 

Because that—that is the point. 

Yifan and Tao both groan. 

And Jongdae can feel the phantom bruising force of their earlier kisses, earlier touches, the faint ache from the way that Yifan’s fingers had closed firm and entirely too hot on his wrist before tossing him on the bed.

“Do with me as you like," he'd drawled into Yifan's mouth, against Tao's shoulder. "However you like.”

And now they’re deliberating, still fully-dressed, still entirely too unaffected. More in control. 

It’s so fucking _hard_ , so counterintuitive—to be like this. 

Lips parting, eyelashes fanning, Jongdae catches Tao’s heated gaze, beckons him forward with a deliberate curl of his fingers. And the younger—the youngest—is stumbling forward then, his pupils already blown with arousal, hands already a little clumsy with it, his movements all fast and eager as he drags his palms over Jongdae’s bare, spread thighs. 

And yes, Tao wouldn't be the one that Jongdae has to worry about. Yes, Tao has also listened so well. 

Tao’s eyelashes are already so gratifyingly heavy, his lips bitten red and raw, and Jongdae spares him a moan, a luxurious arch, a deliberate bite of his lower lip as Tao's fingers stumble up his bare skin. Blunt nails catch on the pucker of his nipples, grooves of his ribs, the hair on his stomach, and Jongdae lets himself press into the sting, pushing further into the warmth of Tao's large, martial-arts roughened hands.

Reverent and hot, they drop back down to wrap around his hips, first loose then tight. The sensitive skin dimples beneath his fingertips as he drops kisses to Jongdae's chest and stomach. Purposeless but eager, he paints Jongdae’s body with succulent kisses, stinging little nips, heady swirls of his warm, wet tongue. 

And the hyung—Tao’s ge ge—Yifan, he tries as usual to exert more control then. He’s tugged off his t-shirt, peeled off his pants and underwear, stands there long and nude as he watches them. 

“Suck his nipples,” he says, and Tao collapses onto Jongdae more fully to do just that, entirely too careless and entirely too desperate, elbows and knees meeting vulnerable skin as his kiss-swollen mouth shifts upward to suckle Jongdae into his mouth.

Jongdae's fingernails scrape over his scalp in encouragement.

And Tao's gorgeous and performative, all slow sucks and furrowed brows and shivery groans against his skin, steady, nearly imperceptible ruts of his hips against Jongdae's thigh. The strained denim of his tight, dark-washed jeans snags and scratches against his skin, but Jongdae lets him keep going. Isn't supposed to exert enough control to stop him.

The sharp, sharp pleasure zips up his spine. 

And Tao continues to roll Jongdae's nipple between his teeth, then with his tongue, his other fingers pinching as Jongdae's chest hitches sharply.

And if he didn’t know him, know how much he loves this, loves pleasing others, then maybe Jongdae would doubt it, maybe whisper something sharp and hot about how he didn’t need boys to pretend, to play it up for his benefit.

But Jongdae _does_ know him, knows that he gets off on kissing, touching, fucking, being fucked, being pleasing, pliant, and perfect, making people feel so fucking good because he’s so fucking good. Because he’s a big, beautiful beautiful beautiful boy. Jongdae's big, beautiful, beautiful beautiful boy.

“Love your mouth,” Jongdae says, watching as Tao glides further down down down down, nuzzling lazily at his stomach, his unsteady breath ghosting over Jongdae’s cock. 

And without being told, Tao draws Jongdae’s cock between his ruddy, perfect lips.

And he’s even more performative then, all the more gorgeous for it. He furrows his eyebrows, suckles and gasps and shudders and moans like Jongdae is the sweetest treat he’s ever had, the absolute best thing he's ever had in his mouth.

Yifan, watching at the end of the bed, stroking his cock, whispers something then, slow, sibilant, _filthy_ Mandarin and Tao laughs, then groans.

Jongdae does, too, chokes on the moan as Tao drags his tongue lengthwise up his cock, humming as he glides down to take him _deep_. 

"What did you say?” Jongdae manages around a helplessly quavery pant. “What did you tell my Tao?”

Tao moans, gags, swallows hard.

“How I wish he was sucking my cock, too,” Yifan admits, quiet and soft. “How I wish I was using his mouth, too.”

And oh, it’s been too long since Jongdae saw them—just them—fuck. Criminally long. 

He swallows, pushes his hips up hard as Tao descends. Tao chokes—again.

“Selfish,” Jongdae chides, and Yifan huffs out a broken laugh, stroke tightening, quickening. “Tao’s mouth is mine,” he continues, purposefully breathy. “All mine.” And to demonstrate his point, he pushes up again, fast, hard—faster, harder, enough for Tao to gag, groan, glide back and forth as he recovers, opens his mouth enough for Jongdae to fuck it again. 

And oh _fuck_ , his mouth is a fucking dream. A fucking gift, like everything else about him. A gorgeous enough distraction for Jongdae to briefly forget himself, forget his Yifan, too. 

“Why isn’t Tao’s mouth on you?” he manages after three slick, succulent glides of Tao’s lips, three responding sharp hitches of breath. “Why don't you get to use his mouth, Yifan?”

And Yifan’s eyes flash with something brief and dark and hot and primal. 

Biting his lower lip hard, swallowing a groan, Jongdae shudders. He wants to claw at him, scrape at him, tear at him to bring it snarling back to the surface. 

“Why isn’t he?” he repeats, and Tao whimpers around his cock, presses back needily onto the fingers molding at the base of his neck. 

“Because he’s yours,” Yifan says. 

And Jongdae remembers when he found them, when he claimed them, twined his way between them and around them because they both had to be _his_. 

“You are, too,” Jongdae says, and he can see the shadows dance across his taut, golden skin as Yifan swallows, heavy and slow. “You’re mine, too, Yifan ge. You’re both mine.”

Yifan nods shakily, and Tao chokes, and Jongdae moans. 

“Come here,” Jongdae rasps. 

Yifan kneels on the edge of the bed, tottering slightly as he strokes himself, tighter now, faster now, more inelegant and less for show now, and Tao is so perfectly aware of the audience, twisting so Yifan can see the way that Jongdae’s cock disappears into his mouth. His eyes are glazed, lips bruised and parted, the most obscene longing in his eyes. He’s fucking whimpering for it. 

And fuck, Jongdae’s entire body shudders through another moan. 

“Come on, hyung,” he says, consciously willing his voice pleading, beseeaching. Not, not, not a command, not, not, not in control. 

And Yifan lumbers even closer. 

He is taller than Tao, than Jongdae, too, broader, more solid, older—Tao’s ge, Jongdae’s hyung—and Jongdae remembers it in moments like these as Yifan looms over him, over them both. 

Jongdae’s limbs have to strain to reach him, the muscles in his arms and legs protesting as he clambers out for him. Jongdae hates it but also loves it, groans in equal parts frustration and arousal as Yifan finally dips to kiss him.

It’s slow and deep, one of those breathtaking, infuriating, distracting, arresting kind of kisses that make Jongdae feel utterly helpless, utterly overwhelmed, feel like he is 14 and being kissed for the very first time, even though they’ve fucked countless times and Jongdae is already naked and the both of them hard and Tao is swallowing persistently around his erection. 

It is exquisitely disarming. 

And it doesn’t matter that this is about what they want, that this is Jongdae giving them both some measure of control. It doesn’t _matter_ because Jongdae doesn’t need Yifan to make him feel small, vulnerable, young, at his mercy. 

Jongdae hates him for it, twists a hand into his hair, hard enough for Yifan to whimper into his mouth, twist atop him, his legs rustling their sheets as he curls into the sting of Jongdae’s fingers at his hair. 

Not in control is the point, but Yifan makes it so easy to wrest it from his too-large, too-heavy grasp, makes it too good for Jongdae to claw and scrape and tear at him. 

Panting, breathless, Jongdae tries to keep his touch neutral, arresting more than guiding, but Yifan seems to know what he wants already. And pulling away with a soft smack of his lips, he’s gliding down Jongdae’s body to join Tao at Jongdae’s cock. 

They share a dirty, open-mouthed kiss over his aching erection, sloppy and eager and loud for his benefit, and he knows they can feel the way it makes his skin pulse and jerk with arousal.

Yifan cradles the back of Tao's neck, and Tao nips at his bottom lip, moans loudly as he sucks on his tongue as they tangle together. And yeah, it’s been too fucking long since he watched them fuck.

Disengaging with a rich, lingering bite, Yifan pulls away to fit himself lower. He lifts one of Jongdae’s legs over his shoulder, nips at the thin, sensitive skin there with a dark glimmer in his blown eyes. 

“Love your mouth, too,” Jongdae says, and Yifan groans around the lick he’s dropping to the base of his cock, his breath all hot and fluttery with desire, eyes all dark with it.

Not to be outdone, Tao joins him, too, mouthing near the head of Jongdae’s cock, eyes locked on Jongdae as he hums, swirls his tongue, drags his lips. It’s the prettiest face that Jongdae’s ever fucked, looks prettiest glittering with little pearls of his come, speckled and marked and own and so completely and utterly his, and Jongdae tells him as much, murmuring out the praise as Tao sucks him down deep—again. 

Jongdae fights to keep his eyes open, whimpers as he wills himself pliant, boneless, but he’s still helpless to stop himself from tangling his fingers in Tao’s hair, scraping them also along the sharp defintion of Yifan’s straining shoulders. “Please,” he says. “For me,” he says. 

_I’ve given you control, now give me what I need_

And Yifan is mouthing, lower, lower, lower. He makes this obscenely wanting sound as he nuzzles between Jongdae's cheeks, his wonderfully large, large hands digging into Jongdae's flesh, holding him open and vulnerable and not in control.

“Jongdae,” he says, and Jongdae’s body heats at the utter reverence in those two syllables, the longing in it, the shaky desperation that bleeds into his tone. 

_I can’t believe I found you_ , he thinks of saying, _I can't believe how good you make me feel. I don’t ever want to lose you. I love you too much; you’re too perfect_ , but he decides to save it for later, when Yifan is trembling from how close he is, when Jongdae’s words are Yifan’s only anchor, only hope. 

Jongdae instead tangles his fingers in his hair and forces him harder, arching, moaning as Yifan gets to work. 

His mouth entirely too skilled, tongue wicked and hot and wet, mouth pliant as his oversized eyes blink up at him—begging, begging, begging. 

Jongdae hooks his legs over Yifan's shoulders, drags him closer as he grinds insistently against his perfect, perfect mouth. And Yifan's big,big, big hands skitter up his thighs before settling on his hips, holding him steady—in control, in control, in control. 

And Tao tries to shoulder his way between Jongdae’s thighs, suck him off again, but Jongdae pulls him up again, trembling into the sloppy kiss he drops to Tao’s mouth. He’s the prettiest face that Jongdae’s ever kissed, too, and Jongdae cradles that pretty, pretty face as Yifan hums filthily against his rim. 

And though Tao isn’t the one being eaten out, fingered, touched, he still moans and jerks into his touch. His lips part, eyelashes flutter, and his breath stutters against Jongdae’s lips, and Jongdae’s hand stumbles downwards to touch him, too, trembling when Yifan hums deep and low, low, low, eases a lubed finger beside his tongue. 

He curls his fingers around him as Yifan eases a second finger inside, strokes tight as Yifan fans them apart then thrusts another inside. 

And Jongdae and Tao are both moaning from stimulation, Yifan from between his legs at the sight of them. 

“Hmm fuck me big boy,” Jongdae coaxes after a particularly deep, thorough curl, coaxes—coaxes, can’t command—and Yifan shudders, the muscles undulating beneath Jongdae’s fingers as he holds him down. 

And fuck, he loves him. Yifan is so _perfect_ , so achingly, wonderfully broad, beautiful, breathlessly eager to please. Perfect, perfect, perfect. And his cock is perfect, too, big, stretching him in the most delicious way as he finally finally finally pushes inside. 

The drag has Jongdae’s jaw slackening, his body trembling, fingernails scraping over Tao’s soft skin as he anchors himself through the perfect burn of it. 

Jongdae doesn’t grind back as he often does, lets Yifan set this slow, shudder-inducing, deep, deep pace. He only moans in encouragement, drags red angry, hot, hot, hot lines down his spine, uses his words. 

“Feel so good,” he pants, breath stuttering as Yifan’s thin hips crash against his ass. “Could fuck you all fucking _day_. Want to ,” Jongdae moans, and Yifan whimpers. “Would if you’d stay hard just for me,” he continues. 

And fuck, he loves how sloppy Yifan’s next thrust is, how his shuddery his moan, shivers at the way it makes hot, hazy pleasure jolt up his spine. 

“Would you?” he goads, tugging, and Yifan—Yifan who is supposed to be in control, had asked Jongdae to let him be in control—he nods sluggishly, pushes hard hard hard once more, clumsy and stuttering. He’s so close, and that has Jongdae barreling closer, too. 

“You’re so perfect,” Jongdae pants, twisting as Yifan’s hands stumble down his hips, force him even more twisted, even more vulnerable. “So perfect, my bi—big boy, so—fuck—so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?”

And oh, Yifan is close enough, strung out enough to need the words, Jongdae knows, need them just as much as Jongdae does. 

“Make me feel so good, hyung.”

Jongdae, he’s _not in control, not in control, not in control_ , and Yifan’s every thrust pushes him further and further back against the mattress. His entire body arches with every dragging, dragging push, and the sheets rub his back raw. 

Tossing his head back with a long, loud, loud moan, he gropes blindly for some anchor, meets warm, soft, perfect, perfect skin. 

And oh his Tao. His perfect, perfect Tao. 

“Taozi,” he drawls, and Yifan groans in appreciation against his skin, pushes in hard—er. Jongdae hisses, bows so Tao’s cock drags over the definition of Jongdae’s trembling stomach. “My beautiful Taozi,” he repeats. Jongdae can’t help but make his words soft with him, sugary and sensual just to make his lips part and his eyes glaze over with want. And oh, how he loves, loves, loves spoiling him rotten. “Come up here and fuck hyung’s mouth like a good boy.” 

Tao is beautiful and quivering and obscene and golden and so fucking wanton, kneeling there shakily by Jongdae’s trembling chest. Surging upwards gracelessly, Jongdae pinches his thigh, and Tao’s legs part. And Jongdae’s supposed to be giving control—supposed to have given it up completely—but Tao lets him guide the pace, always too eager to please as he trembles bodily through Jongdae’s slick, quick, quick sucks. 

The angle, the distracting collision of Yifan’s hips on his ass, and the pleasure of it, fuck the fucking overwhelming, searing heat of it all, they all serve to make it sloppier, messier than Jongdae likes. But Tao moans as he pushes up into his mouth, all the same, breathes out lilting little puffs of rambling praise, the syllables slurred and running into one another. 

_Jongdae hyung, hyung, hyung, ge, ge ge, please, fuck, please, so good_. 

“Not yet,” he says on pure instinct, and Tao’s whine is so breathy and broken against his cheekbone, the frayed need in it making arousal twist tight and painful in Jongdae’s gut. He’s so pretty, and he’s all his. He’s so pretty, and he listens so fucking well. 

Jongdae’s fingers clench at his thighs, and Tao whimpers out a shuddering _hyung_. And Jongdae remembers. 

“You can,” he says, and Tao shakes his head, lips swollen and ruined and eyes glassy. 

“Tell me when,” he insists. “ _Hyung_ , tell me—tell me when.”

And Jongdae knows must it hurt, but he doesn’t let up, accepting this as Tao’s control as he swallows him whole, chokes around him. Again and again and again, gagging as Yifan's stuttering thrusts punt him higher higher higher on their rumpled sheets. 

Tao’s fingers tangle into his hair to hold him steady, tugging hard, and it’s that resounding sting, the stuttery push of Yifan’s cock, grazing grazing grazing his prostate, the brush of Yifan’s stomach against his cock, the dizzying, hazy, confusing pleasure of it all that has Jongdae surrendering completely, finally, crumbling, clambering, clamoring, clawing, clawing, clawing as climax punches sharp and hot and fast through his strung out body. 

And pinned between them, he’s lost, lost, lost in them.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first chentaoris on ao3
> 
> wow!!! so original!!! amazing!!!!
> 
> this au is called "chen's boys" alternately "chen fucks his fave ex exos," pick your fave caption tbh


End file.
